Taken By Nikolai

Yelena

Igroan as pain rips through my head, my mouth feels dry and my eyes are heavy. I wince as the memories come rushing back. My mother hitting me across the head, the dirty asshole who put his hands on me because she allowed him too. I’ve known for a long time that she was a bitch, but I never truly fathomed how far she would go to have me killed.

Opening my eyes I blink furiously at the harsh light, I focus on the white walls as my eyes adjust to the brightness. It doesn’t take me long to realize that I’m in a hospital. Glancing around I see that I’m alone and I can’t help but wonder where Nikolai is. Does he know that I’m here?

The door opens and a middle-aged, balding man walks in wearing a white lab coat and a bright smile. “Ah, you’re awake,” he beams as he moves closer to me. “How are you feeling?”

Confused, angry, determined to get revenge. “Fine,” I tell him. But I’m anything but; I’m in pain and I feel as though I’ve swallowed nails but I despise hospitals and I’m going to do everything in my power to get the hell out of here.

He gives me a knowing smile and checks me over. “Your pupils are reacting as they should to the light, which is a good sign. The blow to the head could have caused some major damage.”

“So I’m okay?” I ask.

“Yes, from the scans and the tests that we have run, you are okay, extremely lucky but okay.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“The baby is doing okay too,” he tells me. “It’s early stages but the development is normal and there’s no bleeding.”

I blink trying to wrap my head around what he’s just said. “Baby?”

He nods. “Yes, Ms. Alekseeva, you are measuring around five weeks.”

The door opens and I ignore it. “How?” I say, wondering why the hell this is happening to me. “I’m on the pill, I take it religiously.”

The doctor pats my hand in sympathy. “Although the pill is a form of contraception, it isn’t a hundred percent effective.”

I can’t believe this. How on earth did I let this happen? I’m pregnant with my mother’s husband’s baby. God, it’ll be a fucking riot at holidays.

“Can I go home now?” I ask, wanting to get on the first flight to New York and get the hell away from here. But first, I’ll have a pit stop to make.

“We’re going to keep an eye on you today. You were unconscious for a few hours and we want to ensure that you and the baby remain okay,” the doctor tells me.

“I don’t want to be here—”

“Lena,” Nikolai interrupts me. “You’re staying until the doctor clears you to go home.” His tone brooks no arguments and while he’s staring at me as though he’s never seen me before—his brown eyes dark and filled with worry, not to mention his shoulders are slumped—he’s still got that anger about him.

The doctor slips out of the room while I’m in a stare off with Nikolai. “I have something to do.”

He grins as he takes a seat beside my bed. “I bet you do, but, malenkaya right now, you need to focus on ensuring that you and our baby are okay.”

My throat lodges as he places his hand on my stomach. I’m swamped with so much emotion that tears spring to my eyes. “Nik—”

He presses a kiss against my lips as I will the tears not to fall. “Malenkaya, what’s wrong?”

How do I tell the man that I’m in love with that I’m not sure if I want this baby? I never thought about having kids, it’s why I was so staunch about taking my birth control. Having Adele as my mother made me view things so differently than others would. I’ve always known that I was a burden on her and that she wished she’d aborted me, that was something I’d never inflict on a child.

“Dorogaya, talk to me.” His voice is hoarse, as though he’s not sure what to expect.

“I don’t know how this happened,” I tell him honestly. I glance up at him and see something move through his eyes. Something akin to guilt and my stomach drops. “Nikolai, what did you do?” I whisper horrified.

He removes his hand from my stomach and sits back in the chair. “Ya hochu ot tebya rebyenka moy, dorogaya.” (I want you round with my baby sweetheart.)

I stare at the man that has taken so much without a second thought as to what I want or feel. “What did you do?”

He doesn’t answer me and the silence stretches between us. Nausea hits me and I push it back down. “Nikolai.” My tone is filled with anger and confusion. I know he’s done something, but what, that’s the question I want answered.

“Tell me,” I hiss. I move so that I can sit up and of course the overprotective ass is up on his feet to help me. “Nikolai, either tell me or leave.”